Hive South Yorkshire

From Chorus to Verse: Reimagining Quirkus

From Chorus to Verse: Reimagining Quirkus
By Lydia Allison – Young Poet in Residence at Darts – Doncaster Community Arts

Before visiting the exhibition I had an idea of the values of the Quirky Choir, but entering the space brought everything very much to life. Three walls covered in bright photographs, interspersed with ornate metal ‘Q’s which each made a different sound, layered with beautiful recordings of the choir singing as well.

It was joyful to move around the room and see the expressions of the choir at different points in the creative process. I hadn’t realised before that many of the songs were originals written by and for the choir themselves. Moving up to the mezzanine floor I settled in to watch the documentary. I found this especially moving and very inspirational.

The poet Ian McMillan plays a major role in the choir and the songwriting; I was particularly interested in his idea of the ‘drawer of memory’. He described how this can mean different things to different people, and how the choir collaborated to make this song.

When I enter a space like this I have two closely wound strands of thought: my own writing and workshop activities. The drawer of memory sparked both. I started by creating a guided meditation script which would take us away from the exhibition and towards an internal imaginative world.

Trialing this fantasy I surprised myself by having a clear idea about the look of the drawers, but a distinct lack of the looked-for thing.

“Nothing in that drawer except for flowered paper, its repeating pattern of heads and stems varied only at yellowing edges and corners with small folds or tears. I had been looking for something but I can’t now put my mind on it.”

When I ran the activity with the group I was interested by the multiple experiences of the imagined space being nightmarish, something I felt I was edging close to as well (perhaps this is the difference between a room of writers and a room of singers!) This fed into the development of my own piece. While memories can be held by objects or songs, they may similarly be lost. I decided to imply unreality and unease by using descriptions at odds with themselves.

“I’m becoming a person who scares me. Look at where I am: this tiny enormous room in an up-kept, decaying stately home end-terrace. The flat bay window looks out on a postage stamp garden stretching acres of hedge as far as I can see. The cheap drawers slide ply on ply, glide shut with a soft-close click.”

I have chosen to present this as a prose poem, partly to contrast the choir’s original, and partly to allow the reading to run-on, maintaining pace and that dreamlike, falling-through quality. I did choose, however, to echo some musical features by bringing back repetition of phrases at the end, as a sort of refrain.

“I had been looking. Sun on dust motes in the dead of this winter night. The flowered paper. Something gone.”

Memory is significant to the choir and to my personal reaction to the exhibition. Music and song can hold an extremely strong and comfortable (even stubborn) place in our memories. I surprise myself how many hundreds of lyrics I know by heart, just as soon as the music begins to play.

This has also been a starting point for my writing around the exhibition. I have tried to use music and lyrics in different ways, for instance, to add texture to a narrative and add to the setting.

“I was trying to tell you something. Love and Happiness hissing tinny from headphones turned up full”

Finally, although this exhibition lent itself to personal reflection and memory, a significant aspect for me was the feel of shared experience and community. I ran an activity with the group where we shared favourite lyrics and wrote a contrasting response to them. This allowed us to all take something significant or serious and play with the meaning, giving our own voices a place, still linked absolutely with our relationship to song.

“There are people I’ll remember
all my life, though some have changed.
There are others I’ll forget
through sheer effort. Gone, living
only in a corner of my mind. OK. Not
forgotten, just put away. A lyric
that that comes back to me
every time that music plays.”

For exhibition details, visit here

Lydia Allison is a Sheffield-born poet, writing facilitator and creative mentor. She is a graduate of the Manchester Writing School (MA) and the Writing Squad.  Her work had appeared both online and in print, including in Introduction X: The Poetry Business Book of New Poets, PN Review, Now Then, Ink Sweat & Tears, United Jotters, and PUSH. She enjoys a range of modern and contemporary writers. Her other favourite things in life are the Yorkshire countryside and cake for breakfast. Follow her on twitter @LydiarAllison

If you’re interested and an adult attending a group at Darts, let your group leader or Darts reception team know. Or look out for workshop announcements in the near future open to the public!

Part of the Hatch programme – Next steps for young writers in South Yorkshire. Supported by Darts (Doncaster Community Arts)

Quirkus Exhibition – Soundscapes & New Found Words

Quirkus Exhibition & Workshop: Soundscapes & New Found Words
By Lydia Allison – Young Poet in Residence at Darts – Doncaster Community Arts

Quirkus (n.) /’kwɜkɘs/ 1. as in /quer.cus/ plants of the northern temperate zone; oaks from shrubs to great trees, as in “great acorns begat small oaks”. 2. as in /quirk.us/ this quirky choir, this song, this raising of voices, this blending of music and words. 3. as in quirky + us. Together and different. 4. as in quirky + circus. This theatre of unexplored ideas. 5. as in together and growing / as in join us / as in / 6. come in come in come in…

On 7th February I had the pleasure of running the first of three writing workshops based around The Point’s first exhibition of 2019 – a celebration of the Quirky choir’s 20th anniversary, with a lively group of adult writers at The Point.

The Exhibition
I knew of the choir and was eager to learn more about it. The exhibition sits in the lower gallery space and spreads up to the mezzanine where a documentary plays showcasing different contributors describing the choir and the various doors it’s opened. I found this extremely moving, particularly Ian McMillan’s fond descriptions of Janet Wood, and her open gestures embodying the general inclusivity of the group.

The photography on display is alive with personality and song, including images capturing the choir singing, rehearsing, and writing. Some of the photos are complemented by lyric extracts, and clips of traditional and ‘Quirky’ songs being played as well.

There are also a number of metal ‘Q’s which you can touch to make a sound – ranging from unusual sound effects to harmonious tones. I personally had a lot of fun trying out sounds, and combining some sounds to make my own kind of music with the choir!

The Workshop
We explored the gallery together making more combinations of sound, as well as starting to tap into the significance music can have to memory:

When I hear that song …
… “on the radio I explore life in a world of love and not what brought on the pain of 41 years […] back then I didn’t know any better, but now I have to turn it off when I hear it.”  Phil Maginn

… “I know I’m alive. The gentle hum reverberating through my body, my blood flowing in rhythmic pulses as my foot taps of its own accord […] this is it, this is life. Sing as one.” Louise Kerkoff

… “happy memories do appear, of joyful tears, of fatherhood as I but cradle my new life creation and dreams of what is to come […] how life’s wonderful” Neil Foulstone

The documentary inspired further writing activities, one of which was based on Ian MacMillan’s near-manifesto explored in the documentary “If you can’t read music, come in. If you haven’t sung before, come in. If you don’t think you can sing, come in.” We thought of further invitations, addressing ourselves or loved ones:

“If you can’t, won’t, work at your comfort while playing the piano, come in. No-one has to be an expert. The secret is to enjoy.” Mal Perkins

“If you can’t swim, come in, the water’s warm […] catch that wave!” Gareth Pendry

“If you can’t come in to socialise with other people, have a day off to an introverted dreamland […] lose yourself for a few moments” Sima Sha

We also worked together on making our own new words and definitions, based on the fascinating title of the exhibition. This led to a number of great insights into the significance and hidden meanings in everyday language, as well as some fantastic new blends, such as:

“Thive: a derivative of being alive and thinking.” Louise Kerkoff

“Thinkberries.” Rosie

“Pashappysion.” Phil Maginn

There is a strong feeling of community, inclusivity, and creativity surrounding this exhibition, and I can’t wait to be back again next week for another morning of writing and sharing at The Point!

For exhibition details, visit here

Lydia Allison is a Sheffield-born poet, writing facilitator and creative mentor. She is a graduate of the Manchester Writing School (MA) and the Writing Squad.  Her work had appeared both online and in print, including in Introduction X: The Poetry Business Book of New Poets, PN Review, Now Then, Ink Sweat & Tears, United Jotters, and PUSH. She enjoys a range of modern and contemporary writers. Her other favourite things in life are the Yorkshire countryside and cake for breakfast. Follow her on twitter @LydiarAllison

If you’re interested and an adult attending a group at Darts, let your group leader or Darts reception team know. Or look out for workshop announcements in the near future open to the public!

Part of the Hatch programme – Next steps for young writers in South Yorkshire. Supported by Darts (Doncaster Community Arts)